


Breaking the Barrier

by Hllangel



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is in love with Peter's wife and trying desperately to keep Peter from finding out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Barrier

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/1404.html?thread=2385788#t2385788). Thanks to gin200168 for bringing the request to my attention. Many many thanks to karaokegal for cleaning up the worst of the smut cliches and bad writing. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Takes place somewhere after season 2, spoilers for 1x09.

It’s the way she invites him over to be her guinea pig.

It’s the way she comes to him in the middle of the night to get Peter out of trouble.

It’s the way her eyes sparkled and the way she smiled when he showed up on their doorstep the first morning.

Eventually, Neal has to start refusing dinner invitations after work. He knows he’s an incorrigible flirt, but there’s something different about the way he interacts with Elizabeth and he’s afraid Peter will notice. In all honesty, he’s surprised that Peter hasn’t noticed already, because this has gone on for far too long, and Neal’s in way too deep.

Mozzie told him ages ago to get over it. Elizabeth may look like Kate, but she’s definitely not Kate. And she’s definitely married to (and very much in love with) the Suit, the one man that Neal can’t escape. Peter knows him well enough by this point that running’s not really an option anymore, anklet or not.

At work, it’s not a problem. It’s him and Peter, Jones and Diana and the rest of the bureau and while they’re in the building or out on a case Neal can mostly ignore the gold band on Peter’s finger, forget that Elizabeth has the matching ring, and pretend that he and Peter exist in a self-contained universe, and that Elizabeth doesn’t exist. Or at least he can until she calls Peter to remind him of their lunch date and invites Neal along half the time. Or until she drops by the office with deviled ham sandwiches for Peter and better food for the rest of the team. Sometimes she sticks around while they all eat and discuss the cases. Neal complains loudly about the smell of Peter’s sandwiches to keep Peter from seeing too much.

Peter gives him odd looks occasionally, and Neal thinks that he’s slipping and that he has to get out. He’s started counting the days until his probation is over, but the countdown depends on nothing going wrong that could extend his sentence in the next two years.

He’d said he was okay belonging to Peter for four years, but that was before he fell in love with Peter’s wife.

Tonight, it’s a warm summer night and he’s sitting on the patio with a glass of wine, having turned down another dinner at the Burke’s house. He hadn’t even bothered to really give an excuse this time, and he knew Peter wanted to question him, figure out what Neal was planning for the evening. Eventually, though, Peter had settled for dropping Neal off at June’s with a reminder that he’d be back in the morning.

Neal definitely isn’t expecting a knock on the door. Mozzie normally just barges in and there aren’t any pressing cases at the moment, just lots of paperwork. He straightens his shirt and debates putting on a tie for half a second, but decides against it. A tie at home alone at this time of night is just weird.

“Elizabeth!” Neal says, opening the door. He’s genuinely pleased to see her (he always is), but has no idea why she’d be at his door tonight. “Come in.”

He can’t refuse to invite her in when she shows up like this. He closes the door behind her and watches as she looks around the room, taking in the bookshelves, the half-finished painting (of her, but abstract enough that he can pretend otherwise), the open bottle of wine. Last time she only came a few steps inside the door; she was too worried about Peter to focus on anything else. This visit is more leisurely, but Neal has no idea why. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

Neal is entranced by her navy blue swishy dress as he moves back out to the patio to rescue his wine and pour her a glass. He sets it down on the counter and turns towards the cabinet but suddenly Elizabeth is in the way, and much too close to him. Neal tries to take a step back because it’s _Elizabeth_ , Peter’s _wife_ , but he can’t go fast enough and she’s kissing him.

Her lips are warm and soft, gentle on his. Neal knows he needs to pull back, that this shouldn’t be happening, but he’s frozen because _Elizabeth is kissing him_ and this light kiss with her hands on his hips for balance as she stands on tiptoes is better than his most erotic fantasies because it’s real, and she really is here. It only lasts a few seconds before she pulls back, keeping her hands in place. She’s looking for his reaction, he knows, and he makes no attempt to hide what he’s feeling because they’re past that now; she’s broken through the barrier that he’d worked so hard to maintain.

She moves closer to him, her toes in their stylish heels nudging his own bare feet. “I thought so,” she murmurs.

Neal knows he should stop this before anything further happens, but _she_ started it and he’s never really been the cautious type. Instead, he bends and kisses her, harder this time. She leans into him and opens her mouth to meet his, still using his hips to balance herself, but her fingers are digging in more, inching her fingers into his waistband, looking for skin. Neal groans when she finds it, pulling at his shirt to get more access. In turn, he runs his hands around her body until he finds the zipper on her dress and pulls it down, the cloth opening in its wake leaving her back open to him. He traces his fingers up her spine and she arches into him, opening her mouth even more under his. Neal notes her reaction for later and moves his hands down feeling her ass and the patterns of the lace panties she’s wearing.

It doesn’t take much for the fabric of Elizabeth’s dress to slither over her shoulders and onto the floor, where she steps out of it and her heels, leaving them in a heap on the floor while simultaneously pushing Neal backwards towards the bed, and he’s not going to fight it. He knows he lost control of the situation a long time ago. Elizabeth is working the buttons on his shirt now, and Neal unclasps her bra, pulling the straps forward and off her shoulders, she lets him slip the thing completely off before going back to his buttons.

She’s gorgeous mostly-naked, even more than he’d imagined. Her hair is slightly messy now, and Neal has a sudden vision of what she must look like after sex, skin glowing in the aftermath, and he really wants to paint that picture. First, though, he wants to see the real thing. Shirt open, Elizabeth’s moved on to his belt and is making quick work of it. Neal is hard, has been for what feels like ages now, and he can feel her fingers teasing his cock. Another few seconds and she’s got his pants open and sliding down his hips, his underwear shortly after. The fabric catches slightly on his anklet as he steps out of them, reminding him of just how screwed he is right now, but then she wraps her hands around his cock for real and he forgets about the possible consequences. What’s life without a little risk?

He climbs up onto the bed and she ditches her panties before following him, pushing him down on the pillows and straddling him, bringing him inside with one swift movement. Her head is thrown back, exposing her throat. Neal sits up, wrapping his arm around her and matching her movements. He nips at her neck, careful not to bite too hard and leave a mark. He kisses her chest too, sucking her nipples and feeling her body tighten in response. She’s doing most of the moving, having more leverage against the bed, but that gives Neal more room to explore her body and feel her around him.

Neal spreads one hand on her lower back and reaches the other between them, rubbing her clit, moving his thumb erratically around her own thrusts. He can tell it’s driving her crazy because she pushes against him, faster, breathing hard. She kisses him again, open mouthed, hungry for more of something, of anything, everything.

When she comes, Neal can feel it everywhere. She contracts around his cock, grabs onto his shoulders and crushes their mouths together, riding it out, but never stopping her movements and soon enough he’s coming, too. They sit together like that, breathing hard for a minute before he leans back, dragging her with him until they’re cuddling in the middle of the bed. She toys with his nipples, sending shock waves up and down his skin. He drags his fingers up and down her spine, reveling in the feel of her against him, listening for the small moans she’s making without realizing it.

Neal is just starting to feel chilly when she pulls away to get dressed again. The sudden absence of her body heat makes him shiver and he reaches for his robe next to the bed. With the chill comes the sinking realization that they don’t exist in this room alone. She has a husband who just happens to be Neal’s de facto parole officer and friend.

She dresses surprisingly fast, putting herself back together and looking like nothing had happened.

As she’s slipping back into her shoes Neal has to ask, “What about Peter?”

Elizabeth gives him a look. Neal doesn’t know her well enough to read it quite yet.

“He’s my friend, Elizabeth. He’s your husband, and more importantly, he controls my freedom.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Elizabeth says, running her fingers through her hair, straightening it out.

“But Peter —”

“Wanted to watch,” she said. “I didn’t think you were ready for that.”

Neal doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just watches as she comes close, closing his eyes only when she stretches up to peck him on the lips.

“Dinner tomorrow at our place,” she says, “No more excuses.”


End file.
